


Reports and Recreational Reading

by knightcommanderalenko



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 07:11:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2764313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightcommanderalenko/pseuds/knightcommanderalenko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen and the Inquisitor spend some quality time reading anything that isn't a report.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reports and Recreational Reading

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to iarinthel for the prompt :3
> 
> A/N: This hasn't been beta'd, so if you find a mistake, write a comment and I'll fix it asap

The late afternoon sun streamed through the stained glass of the Inquisitor’s bedroom. The floor was afire with thousands of coloured patterns, swirling and mixing, dancing across the stone. Such craftsmanship was courtesy of the Marquisate of Serault.

Alexandra sat at her desk. One of her tasks as the esteemed Inquisitor was to read thousands of reports from her advisors and associates. She hated it.

They seemed to be never ending. She’d had reports from Leliana and her scouts all across southern Thedas, as well as the schedules of visiting dignitaries in Josephine’s immaculate hand. O. Writing and signing her responses had made her wish she had a smaller title. On top of her aching hand, she’d received a nasty headache from her attempts to decipher her Commander’s handwriting.

Her afternoon had been a total nightmare.

The Inquisitor signed the final piece of parchment with a swirl of her quill. With much pleasure, she placed the report with the others and placed her head on her desk. The dark wood was cool against her face, abating some of the pain around her eyes. She’d been approving the missives for hours. During the few final reports, the words had begun to merge before her on the page. She was so very glad to be done.

A brisk knock sounded from her door. Alexandra groaned softly and sat up, hearing the sound of plated boots ascending the stone stairs.

“Commander,” Alexandra said politely when the occupant of said boots came into view. “What can I do for you?”

Cullen scratched at his neck, a nervous expression on his face. “I was wondering if you had some time?”

Alexandra smiled, happy both to see him and for the distraction. “Of course.”

Cullen stood awkwardly near the top of the stairs. Since their kiss on the battlements, he’d been acting… strange. Originally, Alexandra had thought that he’d been embarrassed, maybe regretting the kiss. But, happily for her, her darling Ambassador had let slip that Cullen had been mooning over her for quite some time.

Josephine had gossiped more than the Inquisitor had expected. It was all welcome, of course. The laughter and whispers shared between the pair reminded her of her youth; more of her time was spent making heart-eyes at the young knights and Templars of Ostwick than was spent on anything constructive. Her mother had not been amused.

“What do you want to do?” Cullen asked, his gauntleted hand still scratching at his neck.

“I don’t mind,” Alexandra replied with a grin. “Anything is better than reading reports.”

Cullen gave her a sympathetic look. “Don’t I know it.”

The man walked away from the top of the stairs and into the centre of the room. The sunlight streaming through the windows reflected off his armour, and in that moment, Alexandra had never seen anyone look as magnificent. The warm evening light painted his hair and skin in shades of gold. Commander Cullen was truly the Lion of the Inquisition.

“Why don’t we read something more interesting?” Cullen asked, looking towards the Inquisitor’s large personal collection of books.

Alexandra was snapped out of her reverie. “I’ve been reading for hours,” she said with a groan.

The man winced. “I am sorry about that,” he replied. “If there was any way I could lessen the number of reports, I would gladly do it. In truth, for my own sake as much as yours.”

“I know you would; it’s the burden of the title.” With a small groan, Alexandra got up from the chair, her back muscles protesting at the sudden change. With slightly stiff movements, she walked out from behind the solid wooden desk, and crossed the room to her bed. On her trip, her hand grazed his as she passed, a small smile sent his way.

Her bed was ornate. She’d had it commissioned in Val Royeaux, and like all things Orlesian, it was large, covered in gold, and exceedingly lavish. The coverlet was of the deepest red, and golden drapery cascaded from the embellished ivory canopy to the stone floor. There was enough room on the bed for at least two people, and knowing the debauchery of the Orlesians, probably more.

Alexandra sat down on the edge, enjoying the way the soft mattress sunk under her weight. As she settled back, she said: “We can compromise: you read to me. That way, we can spend time together and I don’t have to read another word.”

Cullen eyed her from the middle of the room. “I’m a terrible storyteller, I’m afraid.”

“Really? I think you have a lovely voice,” she replied with a grin.

Cullen chuckled and wandered behind her desk. “Any book in particular?”

Alexandra waved her hand towards the shelves. “Anything.”

Cullen skimmed over one of the shelves. There were the usual prospects: _The Chant of Light, The Search for the True,_ both volumes of _The History of Ferelden,_ all four volumes of the _History of the Chantry,_ and _The History of the Circle;_ none of which sounded particularly appealing. Further down, the books became less academic. On the third self, far to the right, he found all of Varric’s _Hard in Hightown_ and _Swords and Shields._ He rolled his eyes. Of course she had those. Not that he would ever voice his opinions, but he blamed Cassandra; this was her influence.

Cullen moved to the second self. Again, he found a mixture of academic and recreational texts, none catching his eye. However, on the bottom shelf, he felt his face go red. _The Rose of Orlais_ and the latest edition of _The Randy Dowager Quarterly_ held pride of place. There was little dust around them; they had been taken out and read more than once. Cullen felt the blush creep over his cheeks and up to his ears.He hadn’t expected such texts to be in the Inquisitor’s personal library, but he couldn’t say he was unsurprised.

Further down, the golden title on the spine of a particular book caught his eye. _Dane and the Werewolf._ Cullen picked up the tome. It was worn, obviously well-loved by someone, and it was old. It looked like the same edition as the one his mother had read to him when he was a boy. It was still his favourite, not that he would ever tell anyone.

Cullen walked to the bed, book in hand. The mattress was softer than he was used to; it was a lot softer than his own, and seemed like a cloud compared to the ones he had in Kinloch Hold and Kirkwall. He lay down beside Alexandra, a smile gracing his scarred lips when she snuggled in beside him. With her head resting on his furry overcoat, he began to read:

 “Let me sing of heroes and honor lost and found,  
Of monsters and men in all forms,  
Of Dane, hunter without peer,  
Feared by the forests of Ferelden,  
Who one autumn morn spied  
A hart of pure white in beam of warmest sun,  
A prize for huntsman's spear.”

Cullen’s voice rose and fell with the rhythm of the words. Alexandra found it more soothing than anything she had experienced in recent days. Her eyes fluttered close around the third stanza. Her breathing completely evened out by the fourth, and she was fast asleep by the fifth.

Cullen realised she was asleep half-way through the seventh stanza. She looked so peaceful to him; the worry that lined her face was gone, as was her typical frown. She looked closer to her twenty-three years than he had ever seen her look before.

He realised that there was no way he could move without waking her, and if he were being completely honest, he didn’t really want to. After all she’d been through this past few months, she deserved this moment of peace. They all did.


End file.
